The Age of Lost Omens

A 13th Age campaign set in Golarion

The void callers lay defeated, their general slain, their hordes decimated.

In the aftermath of the battle, those who fought the callers dispersed, going their separate ways. No wealth and no glory compelled them to remain, though many went on to other things.

Some went on to fame. Ranti Facebreaker and his Deathdealer orc legion put their experience to good use, serving in such varied locations as Mendev and Cheliax. After years of fighting, they returned to Belkzen and carved out a kingdom. Others went on to a more noble calling, such as Dath Cloudbreaker, who returned to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to face the demons of the worldwound, leading numerous successful campaigns before returning to take over the rule of his clan from his father, where he served as a wise leader for almost six hundred years.

Others went on to wealth. Opir Eightfingers did not return home by travelling north. Instead, he headed south, building ships and putting to sea. He and his men spent years raiding the costs of Varisia and Nidal, accumulating a vast horde of wealth before sailing home. Similarly, the Red Bank encountered exceedingly good times after funding the Gundriksons, for ever deal they made over the next five years turned out exceedingly well for them, though whispers of strange, mindless soldiers employed by the bank are common.

Yet others went on to darker fates. Lord Veric returned to his conquered kingdom, where he proclaimed himself a saviour, a role he played with a fair deal of skill to nearby nobles. His rule as a duke lasted nearly twenty bloody years of purges, executions, and schemes, at great cost to the people of his land, until he was finally brought down by a group of adventurers. So too did Marian Gaborik, who returned home to Mendev a changed man from his contact with the Voidcallers, eventually coming to preach for the inevitable end of everything.

Many others had more varied ends. The Silver General, Katlin, fell in battle years later, still a mercenary. Kam Ironfury was caught in a landslide while prospecting. Janessa Elvanna of the White Witches became enmeshed in the games of her mother and sisters, a game that she played with some skill, until she was caught in a plot against the white queen and executed.

Even the land around the site of the battle was changed forever. The Shoanti peoples, attempting to build on the cooperation that had brought them victory, sought to build a confederation of their peoples that lasted for some twenty years, until it broke down over the theft of a cow. A hundred years later and for centuries thereafter, the area became famous for a clutch of red and green dragons of unusual size who caused a great deal of destruction.

Others were changed forever by the experience. Loria of the Leaf, forever saddened by the cost of the victory retired from life as an architect but was eventually convinced to serve the lords of Mendev during a later crusade, during which she was assassinated. Mylus, the gnome, vanished underground, never to be seen again.

Most infamous of all the participants was Lotur, the deathless general. His empire, a hundred years in the making, lasted for another three hundred years, and cost untold lives, changing the face of Golarion forever.

Still, the victory over the void callers prevented a wider war, and all those who participated in it were heralded as heroes.

Our day began much as they always do, seeing to the needs and the issues within our camp of ragtag followers and soldiers.

The famed Silver General has taken it upon herself to begin training the random followers that Maric had managed to scrounge up while in Ustalav. Dath, once again warned us of a potential attack or raid by the foul Void Callers. While Lotur had discovered some kind of plot to tamper with our water supplies. Wells had been poisoned, though we have no suspect or motive, the poison did not kill anyone, merely made them sick for several days.

Yonderhoff again has failed to deliver. Now, the caravans that we finally convinced them to fully supply are being raided by bandits and orcs. We decided to send in Ranti and the Deathdealers to weed out and destroy the raiders.

Dwarven bounty hunters came for our brother. The story of the impending doom, the fate of the world balanced on a knife edge did not sway their greediness and pettiness. Dath dealt with several of their members swiftly, and we conscripted the rest into our army.

With that resolved, we decided to take Yarric and his men without to seize Fortress Gundrikson, a long-forgotten family fortress from ages past when the Gundrikson’s were at the height of their glory. We trudged through the orc infested lands, collecting scales needed to unlock an ancient door entering into the rear of the fortress.

We charged in Yarric’s men seizing stragetic points and chokepoints in the Fortress while we assaulted the throneroom, slaying Murderfist, his bodyguard and some kind of demonic adviser or controller. We took the ancient dwarven arms and armor, taking what we needed to better outfit our men and set off, back towards the cursed Valley of the Void Callers.

I can’t help but feel that this whole situation is coming to a head. The tension at the keep could be cut with a knife. The final fight is coming, I can feel it.

From the journal of Gundarin

Toilday, 20th of Abadius, 4715 AR

The waking nightmare continues unabated, it seems. The past few days have brought more madness than I can handle.

The week started with a battle. The callers sent a pre-emptive attack against us. Luckily, my younger brother Gerrick and the giant devised a cunning plan to swiftly counter attack with our stronger forces. The battle was over in short order, and we pressed on with the orcs deeper into the mists.

There we left our orc comrades to raid one of these ‘nests’, and set off to investigate something on the horizon. We discovered a large… beetle? I’m not quite sure how to describe it. It was like a living siege weapon, dozens of feet tall. After trying (and failing) to find an entrance, we brought the creature down using more conventional means.

With that nightmare taken care of, we set off in search of supplies and the Silver General. We found her (as opposed to ‘he’, much to my surprise and delight) in a tavern. The accountant quickly renegotiated the terms of our arrangement, as not all of her forces were available at present. We got at least a thousand trained soldiers, however, in addition to supplies and craftsmen from the local dwarves, so it was well worth the trip and extra coin.

On the way back, we (inconceivably) decided to retrieve an undead horror from the depths of an active volcano. I don’t trust the thing, but the giant assures us that he would prove to be a capable leader and tactician if given the chance. I’m not sure about that; I’m quite fond of having blood pumping through my veins. It was a hard task to retrieve his dried up corpse, as it was guarded by stone constructs of an unfriendly sort. I managed to retrieve the body while the others distracted the golems. The thing reeked of rot and hunger and vengeance, and I nearly tossed it into the molten fires around us in disgust and terror. Alas, I did not… Against the darkness that we’ve seen, perhaps the only thing that can fight it is another darkness. I just hope it doesn’t turn out to be our undoing.

Gurren's Remembrance Stone

Since when was reviving an immortal evil using the blood of a man a good idea? Since never.

Again, I have seen things… so many things. Most of them disturbing.

After addressing various concerns and issues among the camp – one which included the merchants and the like cheating us out of our goods in the supply convoy – we searched the camp for a source of blood to revive our newest ‘friend’ Loture.

We found a man guilty of killing another man in his sleep at the Bearpelt Following. We held a brief trial for the poor fool and quickly used his fluids to bring back the being which Dath and his men had killed ten times over.

He seemed… nice. For someone who evidently has no problem with being killed repeatedly and was kept as a chunk of human-jerky in a volcano. He did make us swear that we wouldn’t kill him again after this whole Void-Caller problem was dealt with. Whatever, we don’t live here. I’m going back to the East and smoking myself into oblivion if we manage to survive this.

Marion returned with what could be best described as… a hodge-podge of rabblerousers. And a self-styled mercenary king. I could see the snake-oil shine on that one. He wished us to legitimize him as a ruler. A ruler of murders, rapists and other delightful sorts. We will hold trial on him… and that gnome. And a few others who’ll be strung up in the gallows.

Oh and the ogres. I forgot about them. Almost. The two-headed one stood out quite a bit.
That one dragon. The one we thought it was a good idea to steal from some time ago. He found out that we stole from him. And threatened to set our camp ablaze. I supposed we should find out what the great red Lord Flamerot wants. I for one am not enjoying the idea of being roasted alive.

We ended up back at the ogre village. Or what was left of it. We did make a mess of it after all. My brothers beat on the large drum and the wyrm erupted from the volcano. It was quite the sight to behold. If it weren’t for the fact it was also completely terrifying.

Flamerot… wanted us to return what we had stolen. From what I recall, the gems were used to pay for our supplies… so that’s not going back to him. And the necklace we found? I have no idea where it went. I suppose by the way the dragon was glaring at Sneaky-Brother, he probably has it. But at least the beast gave us a second option. Find him a mate.

Right. Find a dragon. A mate. Not only that, a great red. This one is definitely going into the books of completely bizarre tasks I’ve undertaken. He said no whites, but had no problem with the rest. He pointed us in the direction of a great desert where he had seen a large blue flying about. We quickly made haste and left – he gave us a week before threatening to turn our camp into an all you can burn party.

Making good time, we arrived at the desert. Lo and behold, such desert it was. There were no signs of the beast, as according to the locals it had been last seen sixty or so years ago.

After clawing through the sand we came upon a rock with signs of a dragon having… perched? Sat? Whatever. Dragon.
Galen channelled a mighty wind and blew away 60 years worth of sands that had buried a rock. Leading to a… cavern.

Well if there’s a place for a dragon to sleep for decades, it might as well be one that has been buried under the sands of time.

Entering the cave, we were set upon by lizard folk who spared no time to talk. As we slew them, we had found what we were looking for. The blue. Or at least we thought it was what we were looking for… as the dragon told us that it was a HE and for such a good laugh, he spared us death by electrocution and told us that there was a female green dragon just further off. We quickly ran. Oh so quickly.

Our fortunes ran better as we found the female green in question, and Galen managed to convince her in seeking out Flamerot and his vast pools of gold. She gave us a scale as a token to bring back to the red.

Galen and I… and was someone else there? I don’t recall. We hurried back to the dragon’s mountain while the others went to Janderhoff to have words with the council. We were ambushed by that void caller I did not manage to slay that last time. He ran away yet again. I’ll get him yet one day.

We presented the scale to Flamerot, who seemed… satisfied. Although he warned that if he smelt our dwarfstink on his mountain again, we’d be very, very dead. We took his warning to heart and left to regroup with the others.

On our way back to the Kodar mountains, we came upon a ragged band of Shoanti. It appears that we found the remnants of the Skull clan, who were beset upon by orcs that occupied Belkzen and our ancestral home.

Wishing to enlist the remaining Shoanti warriors, who were dreadfully outnumbered, we went to their aid and slew the orcish raiders. Those who were left of the warriors, we directed to our camp.

It has been hard seeking allies in this distant land. The locals are too caught up in their politics and wars. We had gathered all that we can from the local lands. A motley crew of tribesmen, orcs, witches and drunkards. We needed real soldiers.

We heard of a band of mercenaries, lead by one called the Silver General. Sadly, the Silver General will need to be paid not in silver pieces, but gold. The only place that would offer such a king’s ransom would be the Red Bank, a macabre organization that will pay for weird creatures, dead or alive.

We headed back into the mists hoping to find some void callers to sell to the Red Bank. As our luck has been recently, we ran into a brutish thing, made from the corpses of heroes long ago. It was a long fight and my shield and armor held out long enough for my brothers to finish the beast off.

We headed off to the Red Bank with our fleshy prize. I have never met such a disgusting group of individuals. We argued over percentage points as our enemy grew stronger. In the end, we had a deal.

We then explored the local city, hoping to gather more allies for the struggles ahead. It seems that the local king, with the colorful nickname of eight fingers, was plagued by a daughter of Baba Yaga, who had broken an age old truce. He pledged everything he had if we could end this threat for him. It was not a task that Gundriksons would normally do, but the fate of the world was at stake and Eight Finger’s forces and supplies were desperately needed.

With Gundarin’s Stealth and Galen’s cunning we managed to sneak into the Ice Fortress without problem. I am not sure what my brothers have been up to since the time I have been gone, but from their adeptness at such dishonorable skills, I fear for the worst. The battle was fierce, the witch’s mind control and ice powers threatened to overwhelm us. But in the end, we endured as Gundrikson’s do and escaped the crumbling castle after the despicable deed was done.

I fear what depths we will descend to in the name of saving the world.

I hope by now, my first letter has reached you. It’s been some weeks since I left to see my father, I’ve addressed this to a supply warehouse in Kalsgard, hoping they can forward it to wherever you may be deployed with The Sons.

Things have not gone well. What I assumed to be the last wishes and ravings of my father racked with dementia, turned out be something incredibly worse. Void Callers, some ancient foul beasts that pervert and corrupt corpses and may very well overwhelm us all.

Much has happened recently, we ventured into the land of the White Witches that I’ve heard you speak of. It is a bizarre place, bound slaves abound the lower depths of a massive tree, and as we climbed further upwards, delved deeper into the witches bizarre forms of excess, they seemed far more interested in themselves than helping us defend the world, they sent a meager group of a dozen or so witches.

Things also came to a head with some Orcish mecenaries, The Deathdealers. Able soldiers, but wrathful and cruel, they raided the tribesmen allied with us for sport. Their leader, Ranti was… less than agreeable to our directions to stop, and we scuffled, I took a hell of a beating but managed to come out the victor.

We’ve also secured a quarry to fortify the valley we’re in. The gnome who directed us there wanted us to slaughter the whole town, but I could not bring myself to do that. Some kind of defiled ore was influencing their minds, and my brothers and I could not bring ourselves to kill the women and children without first trying to free them from this bizarre control, which thankfully we did.

Last, and most important. Return home as soon as you can to Kalsgard. I’ve instructed the men there to give you my backpay I’ve been saving. If I should die in this endeavor, and if we fail, take the money, gather your family, and hire the fastest boat you can find and sail far, far away.

I pray this sending finds you well. The messenger charm you have taught me is unerring as always. By the time the clay messenger finds you, you’ll likely be settled in your new home.

I’ve copied my notes regarding the Void Callers and enclosed them with this letter so that if the worst happens then those who pick up the defense of Golarion can learn from what we experienced. We’ve learnt little else about their capabilities since our first encounter with them. Only Gwernach has been bold enough to look into the seeing stone. Since then it’s been entrusted into the hands of Marion, our advisor. Hopefully its presence as a symbol of the dangers that the Void Callers present will serve far better than a divining bauble in my youngest brother’s hands.

Marion has crisscrossed Varisia and into the Hold of Belkzen to recruit allies. He has managed to convince a company of Orc mercenaries to serve in our keep’s defense. Garen seems to hold them in high esteem. They seem disciplined and hardy, though it remains to be seen if they will remain staunch allies. Truly the gods make fools of us if they send us aid in the form of Orcs and Giants. Our family seems too eager to trust any soul that crosses our path.

For instance, a dwarf by the name of Ironborn, or some such, came to our keep with wild tales of dragon cults and treasure hoards. Gundaren was eager to find out if the stranger’s story was true. While our cause sorely needs funding, surely we should not simply trust the word of outsiders. We set off at dawn to corroborate his story. Gods help us if he leads us on a wild dragon chase.

Good news! The dragon hoard did indeed exist. We were able to recover some of the treasure from the cult while the dragon was away. It seemed to trust its cult and the lava within its lair to ward away thieves, which I’m sorry to say we have been reduced to such a sorry state. I’ve enclosed a pair of gems in the clay messenger’s neck compartment.

Our journey has taken us to the Kingdom of the Linnorm Kings to recruit the Mighty General Cloudbreaker, a storm giant of considerable prowess. The word is that he is lending his strength to the bulwark around the Worldwound. To think I would see that place I had only seen marked on a map. I will send the letter away now. Hopefully it will be a simple errand. Though, as experience has taught me, things are rarely simple for the Gundrikson family.

A series of incidents from the Remembrance Stone of Gurren Gundrikson

By Torag’s hammer… I would have expected that all the time I spent in Tian Xia would have prepared me for anything, but these spider beasts are far from anything I would have ever imagined from this plane – and I have seen all sorts of oddities out East.

After we left the hive and returned to the fortress, it took a matter of days for us to recover before we were well enough to venture forth again.

Some of Gabric’s allies had arrived – a ponce and a gnome. Delightful. One spoke of flying buttresses and other nonsense. No matter. At least they bothered to show up.

Gabric suggested we go out in search of allies among the Shoanti barbarian tribes, towards the North.

Sister and elder brother argued and bickered the during the entire trek. Brothers 2 & 3 argued about something else as well. Awkward brother… I have no idea where he wandered off to. Scouting perhaps. We made our way into the Wind clan territories and brother Galen nearly ended up being a feathered pin cushion. Apparently we didn’t even notice that they were there. Then again, Gwernach never admitted to being a particularly good scout…

Brother spoke to them about the impending threat of the void callers… or whatever in the nine hells they are and are supposed to be called. The patrol leader immediately changed his tune and led us to their village.

We spoke to their chief and requested the assistance of the Wind Clan. Their chief in turn asked that we travel to their sacred burial grounds, choose a barrow and recover a totem of one of their great heroes. Wonderful, the Gundrikson clan has been reduced to an overglorified delivery service. Father must be rolling in his freshly dug grave… or trying to roll. Maybe they encased him in rock to prevent such things.

Goering, the patrol leader fellow led us to the barrows, and stopped short of the location. He said he was forbidden from entering. Right, and it is perfectly fine to send in foreigners and interlopers. I’ll never understand these mud-hutters.

What he failed to tell us until AFTER we had returned from recovering the token was that no one had ever returned successfully. I was this close to setting him ablaze.

We delved into the oldest looking barrow… it was rather strange. While we were underground, it did not feel like we were physically underground. Dwarves and all. There was a strange spiritual magic at work there. We came upon a well made… for humans anyway, rock wall. Brother #3 bashed it down and sister carefully arranged the mess so we could patch it up later.

Deeper… or at least it seemed, we went until we came upon a great hall. Tables, platters and weaponry on the walls.
In the center of all this was stone coffin. Seems we have found ourselves a dead hero. Brother #2 joked that maybe the moment we opened up the coffin and grabbed the totem, the corpse would lunge at us.

Geril and Garrek opened up the coffin. For something crafted out of stone, it lifted easily. Inside were the remains of a Shoanti hero, name unknown. Gundarin carefully extracted the totem from the hands of the body. And began talking to himself. Here I thought I was the crazy one.

A contest of strength against elder brother? What nonsense is Gundarin spouting? What – oh. Right spiritual magic.
He was talking to the spirits of the dead. Of course. This was made very apparent as the hall itself came alive. Or about as alive as a bunch of barbarian tribes spirits can make it.

The hero made his intent clear, he wished to challenge Galen to a contest of drinking. Brother initially faltered, but at the urging… uh… prodding of elder sister and Gundarin, he gave in. Very reluctantly.

The spirits invited us to join them in their festivities. Eating with departed spirits probably falls on one of the less odd things that I have done, so I joined them. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the sensation of intoxication from alcohol. Never in my life would I have expected that. It was glorious. Also the dead make very good mead. This is something I will have to take note of when I return to the brewery. If we make it out of this mess.

Elder brother succeeded in the contest, and we gained the blessing of the Wind tribe’s hero. Taking the totem, we hurried out, repaired the wall and greeted a very surprised Goering. He led us back to the village at a rapid pace where we were given a much warmer reception upon returning with the totem.

The Wind chieftain agreed to give us his aid and went forth to gather his warriors. We inquired as to where the other nearest tribe was.

The Moon tribe were the closest and were on friendly terms with the Wind tribe. With shoanti ponies, we made haste to the Moon village. At least we didn’t get stuck full of arrows this time as well. Or stopped. At least until we made it to the bloody entrance.

Requesting an audience with the Moon chieftain however was… difficult. As she had locked herself in a dream-trance.
The shamans said that a certain herb grown in the Northern mountain range would certainly make her exit the trance.
Galen and I wanted to dive into the dream world and retrieve her, but the others wanted no part in it and we headed to the mountains.

They warned that two search parties had gone up and have failed to return to the village. Wonderful, some sort of people-eater is out there. At least they gave us warning this time.

Plains, plains and cold. We tied the horses down once we reached difficult terrain and hurried towards the mountain. It grew colder. At the foot of the mountain, what greeted us was rather gruesome. The signs of battle, broken weaponry. A foot. Well that solves one mystery. Something showed up. Ate some people and people ran away. Wonderful.

there is a haze in this particular section of the stone’s records – likely caused by a brief hit of opium

We made it up this bloody cold mountain range. Gwernach managed to drop himself into a crevasse. Once.
After fishing him out, we found the flowering herb the Moon tribe had described, grabbed as many as possible and set out to return. It was getting late and Galen had found an ice cave where we made camp for the night.

During Gwernach’s watch, he roused us. He heard curious windy howling sound during his watch. Glad to hear that at least Gundrik’s tooth wasn’t planting strange ideas in his head or that ridiculous token he grabbed hasn’t completely taken over his mind.

Something… had made a hole in the cave. A very large hole. Whatever it is, I do not fancy the idea of being eaten in my sleep. Gathering our things, we found ourselves in a massive ice cavern and series of tunnels.

Gwernach said he heard the voices of precious stones. Indeed he found a sizeable pile of large smooth gems. As we gathered around to examine the stones, we failed to notice the large lizard thing that came upon us. After it tried to eat Garrek – it failed after being stabbed and slashed repeatedly to its death by brother #2 and sister.

At least it wasn’t a dragon. More of some sort of bastard degenerate dragon lizard thing. I really should have paid more attention back in the Zoology of Reptilian Monsters in Mage College. The best I could determine was that the thing is dead. And big. No matter. The beast is still dead. And decapitated. Sister lopped the thing’s head off and has decided to drag it back with us. For the Skull clan she said.

Garrek cut the beast’s guts open to see if it was the one that had eaten the Moon tribe search parties. It wasn’t. Instead we found more of the gems in its gullet. Awkward brother began calling the gems ‘Poo-stones’. I rapped him across the skull with my staff. He also started skinning the beast, rambling about making lizard cloaks to keep us from the cold. No matter. The less time we spend in this godsforsaken mountain, the better.

We returned and happily found our ponies, still in one piece and made haste to the Moon village.
The shamans immediately prepared an elixir from the herb and fed it to their chieftain. She regained consciousness and the first thing elder brother did was blast her with holy fire. I think all that time spent in Highhelm has unhinged him. Also all the backstabbing from stupid Uncle Ironhide and Silvermane may have driven him partially mad.

The Chief, she said she saw what was coming in the near future and immediately agreed to aid us in our mad quest. But first, she needed another favor – we had to activate a godstone. Whatever that is. Which was also in the bloody mountains.

This is one of the reasons why I left Highhelm. I got sick and tired of mountains. There’s something to be said about fields of grains and nice flat plains.

Always mountains. Gwernach went scouting ahead. Scouting being a loose term. I think the weird Void token and Gundrik’s gold tooth keep him distracted. Perhaps he has joined their hive mind. Or created his own weird hive mind.

We were ambushed by more of those dead men spider creatures. One in particular stood out. It seemed somewhat more… heroic? Or about as heroic as something that had spawned from the maw of some sort of flesh spider abyss would be.

The thing struck Gwernach in the forehead with an arrow. He’s still alive. Maybe the arrow will keep things from corrupting him further. Or drive him madder. That has yet to be seen.

Here is something to consider. While our clan may have rode under the banner of the Rat, the harbingers of death and destruction… there is something to be said of a creature that withstands an empowered lightning bolt. My initial instinct would be to feed it another bolt. That or run for the hills. Running for the hills is usually frowned upon in most cases.

The deadman however beat me to it, as it cast a dirty look… gaze… uh… whatever counts a dirty look at us. I could not tell if the damned thing had eyes from this distance. It made for the mountain side and climbed up and away from us before I could blast it again.

We dealt with the remaining fodder and continued through the mountain range. In the distance across a massive lake, we found the Godstone. As massive as the Moon tribe had described it. Going around the shore… no dwarf in his right mind… or wrong mind would even considering swimming across. Maybe except for brother #2. Pirate and all.

We approached and there laid in front of the stone were various offerings and sacrifices. Notably… a number of those items were gigantic. During the time I spent in Goka, I recall very rarely that there would be coins the size of wagon wheels and furniture the size of great warships. Giants. The massive footprints close by were also a very good hint.

As my siblings began arguing (as usual), with Gwernach possibly attempting to converse with the massive coins, I approached the stone. Tossing a bag of coins onto a nearby smaller table, I placed my hand on the stone and felt a sensation of warmth and friendship. Now if only all mind altering substances made me feel like this.

Aside from the warm fuzzy feeling not much else happened. How is this… stone supposed to empower the Moon tribe anyway? Bah. I’m not the spiritual one. Galen is. Someone else can figure that out.

I forget which of my siblings decided it was a good idea to seek out the giants however… but seek them we did.

Following the massive footprints, we found a castle in the sky. Admittedly, one doesn’t see too many castles in the sky very often. I suggested teleporting everyone up there. Garrek refused to have anything to do with that and instead smacked the tethering chain with his hammer. He got the giants’ attention. Surprisingly.

The giants descended… and failed to notice us. Brother tried to swing at the chain again and failed miserably.

At this point I lit up my pipe and ignored my surroundings. We ended up in the giant city and met with their leader, Gunther. Elder brother blasted the giant with holy fire. He stirred and referred to us as ‘small blurry shapes’.

When the subject of the void callers was brought up, Gunther recalled the ancient crusade, and he had taken part in the battle ages ago. In his current state, he was in no condition to aid us, but the giants provided supplies to our base and sent us off in search of Gunther’s son, Cloudbreaker.

Again I would have thought my journey to the East would have prepared me for all this. I suppose it hasn’t. Now where in the nine hells did I put my pipe…?

From the journal of Gundarin

Toilday, 25th of Neth, 4714 AR

It was a long trek, and the cart has certainly seen better days, but I had finally arrived. I spent the better part of a day selling what goods I brought with me, some ill-gotten items that were easier to sell far away from where they were procured, and restocked for the return journey. I bed down for the night at one of the local taverns, after partaking in more than a little of their house brew.

The next morning, I arrived at the place mentioned in mother’s letter. It was a depressing place, clearly only there to make failing hearts and bodies more comfortable as death approached. I had tried to prepare myself for facing my father after all these years, but I could not prepare myself for seeing him in that state. Our once proud and determined sire had been reduced to a spectre of his former self. It pained me to see him this way, despite our past disagreements.

Garrek was there when I arrived! I didn’t think he had it in him, but he set out into the world shortly after I did, and got into as much trouble if not more than even I. Galen arrived as we were busy sharing stories of our respective travels, oddly in chains. Our perfect elder brother getting into trouble with the law… I could scarcely believe it.

Gwernach, Gurren and Geril all arrived shortly thereafter. Perhaps the only one who hadn’t changed at all was Gwernach, awkward and quiet as ever. Gurren had picked up a few habits, and perhaps even a bit of an accent after all his time spent in the east. Geril seemed to have been hardened by living in Cheliax all these years… I can only imagine what horrors she may have endured to change her so.

Mother finally arrived after all of us siblings had become reaquainted after all these decades. It was obvious that time and grief weighed heavily upon her. We offered what assistance we could. Father passed that night, and the next morning we were given his last will and testament by his caregiver. It was clear that he had been experiencing dementia near the end, as his words were out of place and time. There was little of interest, as most of our possessions had been stripped by the other clans, except for one item. A letter from someone called Marion, asking for aid with a particular problem. Enclosed was a spell for teleporting us to the requested location.

What followed after was something of a waking nightmare. We investigated a hive, for lack of a better word, of giant spider-like creatures. It wasn’t that I had not faced arachnids of unusual size before. These were just… wrong, somehow. After defeating them, we learned through unsettling means that there were more, much more, and that they were once the cause of a great war that took place hundreds of years ago. Something must be done to stop them from returning, or there won’t be a world left.

The Sorcerer King's Wrath

While they were investigating the city, Kiira began reading the copious books of lore that the lost city kept within its libraries. She discovered the name Var’jo and learned that the God of Betrayal had made a deal with Octavius the Sorcerer King. While the specifics of the deal were not spelled out, it was apparent why the god had taken great pains to sabotage their mission from the start. She shared this information with the rest of the party, who agreed to leave Valdir in the dark for fear that his connection to the dark god would betray their plans to free their companion from his control.

The party split up. One group journeyed down to the Cogs where the slaves of the city were kept. Another went to the Silent Tower in search of Ardala the Sylph and the other wanted to find out where the Ifrit’s bottle was being kept.

While exploring they came upon the execution ceremony of General Septimus who had lead an unsuccessful revolt against his liege before Kourion was sealed within the time loop. At the beginning of every cycle he was tortured and executed in front of his men before they were locked away for the remainder of the cycle. The heroes saw a potential ally in Septimus and the means of the Sorcerer King’s downfall.

Through careful inquiry they discovered the Ifrit’s bottle was kept at the side of the Lord Captain of the Guard, a powerful warrior and ruthless killer.

They smashed their way through Daedalus’ traps and confronted him in his home. He revealed the nature of the great machine and told them the means to escape the time loop. If they were to release Ardala from her prison, she could use her power to manipulate the Ifrit to operate the device to propel them forward in time. The heroes’ presence provided a life line to their own world so, by taking control of Octavius’s controlling crown, they could escape blast and return home.